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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129074">The Dinner Party</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolaire02/pseuds/Iolaire02'>Iolaire02</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brave New World - Aldous Huxley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Missing Scene, POV First Person, Plotless, SO, Self-Insert, but like not really, i guess, i'm sorry my dinner party didn't save their lives, if you count soma as a drug, my attempts at dialogue, really just a ton of dialogue about previously occurring events, seeing as how the narrator has grown up in the bnw, this fandom is miniscule, vague descriptions of drug use, which it is, why am i even posting this, written for an english assignment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23129074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolaire02/pseuds/Iolaire02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a dinner party where a lot of things are discussed. People realize that not everyone has the same views as they do, and the whole thing is just a minor disaster.</p><p>(That's not surprising: whoever thought I should be the one hosting the party was out of their mind.)</p><p>Despite the conversations that take place, nothing changes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Dinner Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was written for English class. I figured I might as well post it, otherwise it'll collect dust where only I can see it.</p><p>(I should probably have just left it in google drive.)</p><p>Um... fair warning, I did not enjoy reading this book, nor did I like any of the characters besides Helmholtz, but I don't think you can tell.</p><p>Also, this is a self-insert, of a sort. But the self-insert was decanted and conditioned just like everyone else in the BNW and also has no memories of my life, I guess.</p><p>And this is meant to be read as a missing scene; otherwise it is canon compliant, I think.</p><p>I apologize to anyone who reads this and hates first person. I hated writing in first person as much as you hate reading it. Or as much as I hate reading it. Whichever.</p><p>I also apologize for the constant switches between British and American spelling, because I think I did that.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is nearly five o’ clock when the doorbell chimes for the first time. I make my way to the front door, wiping my hands with a dishcloth, and open it to find Lenina Crowne standing on my doorstep.</p><p>“Hullo, Lenina,” I say, stepping aside to hold the door open for her. “How are you this evening?”</p><p>“Quite well, thank you. And yourself?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m doing wonderfully. I’ve been looking forward to tonight for quite some time. Do you know when the others plan to arrive? Only, the food isn’t quite ready, I’d been expecting you all to arrive closer to the half-hour.”</p><p>“Oh!” and here Lenina looks almost embarrassed. “I expect that they will arrive closer to the set time. I thought if I arrived early we might take the time to catch up before the Alphas arrive. I could help you in the kitchen, or I could set the table, if you like.”</p><p>“I would be grateful for your help, darling.” I make my way back to the kitchen, saying “Here, follow me; I need to check on the roast - I just put it in a few minutes ago.”</p><p>Lenina pauses to hang her coat by the door, and then trots along behind me. “Tell me,” she says, “what you think about John. I think he’s quite charming, and very handsome, but he has such odd opinions about how we live.”</p><p>“I can’t rightly give an opinion on him as I’ve never met him. I’ve heard he’s quite polite. And,” I add as I flip the switch on the electric mixer and add salt to the potatoes being beaten inside, “I am not surprised that he’s got strange opinions on our way of life. You mustn’t forget that he was decanted on the Savage Reservation, and he grew up with a <em> mother </em>, of all things, or so I’ve been told. Here, grab those forks and knives, will you, and I’ll carry these plates and bowls to the dining room. The spoons and napkins are already there. You seem as though you fancy John; have you made any headway with him since we last saw each other?”</p><p>“No,” Lenina replies forlornly. “Bernard was hosting a party the other night, and I attended. I had hoped to see John, but he refused to come out to see anybody. I feel as though it’s my fault, though I can’t rightly say <em> why </em>.”</p><p>“Sometimes,” I tell her sagely, “men like to play hard to get. I doubt it was your fault, though. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he was feeling a bit down and took some <em> soma </em>. After all, I’ve heard that he’s rather attached to that Linda person, and she’s not at all well, is she?”</p><p>Lenina frowns down at the place she’s setting and nods. “Maybe that’s it,” she agrees, though she sounds unconvinced.</p><p>We work in silence for several long moments, breaking it only to exchange the typical social niceties. After setting the table, I direct her to a comfortable armchair in the sitting room and return to the kitchen to mix her a <em> soma </em>-lemonade drink. Lenina accepts it gratefully, sipping from the glass daintily as I make my way back to check on the roast and potatoes.</p><p>The doorbell rings again, while I am taking the meat out of the oven. “Lenina,” I call over my shoulder, “would you be so kind as to answer the door for me?” There is no reply, but only a few moments later, Bernard and John walk in behind Lenina.</p><p>“Good evening, Miss,” John says, and Bernard lifts his hand in a brief greeting, caught up in his conversation with the Beta.</p><p>“How do you do, Mister Savage?”</p><p>“Well enough, thank you. Helmholtz rang us just before we left, asking if we would let you know that he’s been held up at the College, and that he expects he’ll be a bit late.”</p><p>“Thank you. Did he specify if he’d like us to wait for him, or would he prefer that we start eating right away?”</p><p>“He didn’t make an indication either way.”</p><p>“Then I suppose we shall wait until he arrives. Can I interest you gentlemen in some drinks?” I ask, addressing Bernard as well, gesturing toward the half empty glass in Lenina’s hand.</p><p>“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Bernard says, “I’d quite like something strawberry flavoured. I recently had strawberry ice cream, and it tasted divine, though the after effects were less than desirable.”</p><p>“Certainly, Bernard. Anything for you, John?”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t really know. Where I grew up, we only had water and milk. I suppose I’ll just try what Bernard is having.”</p><p>“Alright. Why don’t the three of you take a seat in the sitting room? I’ll be right there with your drinks, and we can chat while we wait for Helmholtz.”</p><p>The kitchen is silent after the others file into the parlour, excluding the sounds accompanying the spoons mixing the drinks in their glasses. I carefully pick up the drinks and make my way towards my guests. I am unsure what to talk about; I have known Lenina for as long as I have known anything, but I have only recently met Bernard, and John is new altogether. Helmholtz is the only other one of my four guests that I know much about, and he isn’t here yet.</p><p>“Bernard,” I say, “what were your thoughts on the Sa- er… the Reservation?” From what I have heard of John, he can be touchy about certain topics. For now, it is best to attempt tact; I doubt he would appreciate the place he grew up in being called the Savage Reservation.</p><p>“Oh, it was simply splendid,” Bernard answers, and he sits up straighter as he does so, puffing his chest out importantly. “The people there were fascinating; some of them had white hair, and saggy skin, and bowed limbs, and some spoke another language completely. They are nowhere near as civilized as we are. I shudder to think what it must have been like for poor Linda, being left there and expected to adapt.” He shivers dramatically, shaking his head in sympathy.</p><p>John scowls. “It wasn’t as bad as all that. It’s just different to what you’re used to.”</p><p>“Yes,” Lenina interrupts, “but there was no <em> soma </em> , and no Malthusian belts for the women, and there are no Alphas or Betas or even <em> Epsilons</em>. Everyone does the same things there, and the women give <em> birth </em> to their children, and they have <em> moth</em>- oh, I can’t say it, it’s too awful. And! They’re completely backwards! They don’t even subscribe to the concept that everyone belongs to everyone. They get married first, dreadful idea, and they don’t even have orgy-porgies. It was dreadful; I never want to go back.”</p><p>“Well,” I say delicately, “that sounds very… unique. I’m sure the Savages like their way of life. They don’t know any better, after all.”</p><p>John face takes on a mulish cast, making him look as though he is about to protest, but the doorbell rings in the same moment, and I cannot help but silently thank Helmholtz for his timely arrival.</p><p>“Wonderful,” Bernard says, looking rather uncomfortable with the direction the conversation has taken, “that’ll be Helmoltz. If you like, I’ll go answer the door, and you and Lenina can show John to the dining room. We’ll be along in a jiffy.”</p><p>I smile at Bernard gratefully, before standing and leading Lenina and John to the table. Then, I make my way into the kitchen to bring out the roast and potatoes and steamed vegetables that I have prepared for supper. By the time I am done setting the dishes up on the table, everyone else is seated, with Helmholtz and Bernard sitting beside each other, Lenina to Helmoltz’s left and John to her left. I take the last seat and gesture to the food, saying, “Please help yourselves.”</p><p>The first part of the meal is spent in silence, as everyone piles food onto their plates and begins eating. After most everyone is part way through their first serving, I turn my attention to Helmholtz, who has been rather quieter than normal tonight.</p><p>“Has something happened? You do not seem to be your usual cheerful self tonight.”</p><p>“I have been better,” he admits. “I have just run into some problems at work; the Authorities have indicated that some of my rhymes have not been up to standard of late.” He shakes his head and forces a smile. “No matter. Oh!” he exclaims, as though he has just remembered something important, “you must hear John talk about… Shakespeare, was it?”</p><p>John nods.</p><p>“Yes, Shakespeare,” Helmholtz continues. “He was an interesting fellow, had some rather raunchy ideas, and he wrote about them. I find his work very amusing.”</p><p>At John’s disapproving look, Helmholtz adds, “I suppose that his little stories might not be amusing to someone who did not grow up in a civilized society. John,” he adds in a stage whisper, “gets rather offended when I laugh at certain things, but they are really just absurd concepts, in my humble opinion.”</p><p>“They are serious topics!” John exclaims in offense. “Shakespeare wrote about love and family and death and betrayal. He was very talented. I don’t understand how you can laugh at his work when it is not meant to be funny!”</p><p>“But we don’t have family, or love, or betrayal. And death isn’t something to be feared. It is a wonderful, beautiful thing, and I’ve heard it’s quite peaceful, a lovely end to life,” I counter. “In any event, it sounds as though you have different views than we do on certain things. I think it is personally reasonable that Helmholtz finds love or families amusing when you do not; after all, such things are jokes at best and blasphemous at worst, here in London.”</p><p>John scowls at me, and so I turn my attention to Lenina; the Savage might be interesting, but he seems incapable of accepting viewpoints other than his own.</p><p>“Lenina dear, Fanny tells me that you’ve been rather uncomfortably close to monogamous with the esteemed Henry Foster. Have you managed to figure out what was wrong?”</p><p>Lenina darts a nervous look at John before looking at me like I’ve put her in an uncomfortable position. I frown at her in curiosity. She sighs, saying, “I spent the night with the Arch-Songster the other day, after the party. And besides, I’ve been properly cured of monogamy since Bernard and I got back from the Savage Reservation.” She looks at John again. “Besides, I’ve been feeling rather down or late. But I went to the Feelies recently, and they helped a bit.”</p><p>John looks positively murderous when she finishes speaking. I am aware of the tension that has grown in the room, and so I stand up from the table, clearing the plates as I go.</p><p>“Do any of you want dessert? I’ve got chocolate <em> soma </em> ice cream, and vanilla as well.”</p><p>Bernard declines, but Helmholtz and Lenina accept. When I turn to John, he is standing up from the table, saying, “No, thank you. And I’ve become quite tired. I think I will return to your house, Bernard. Thank you for the lovely evening.”</p><p>I escort John to the front door and wish him a good night. Bernard follows close behind, asking, “John, do you need me to come with you?”</p><p>“No, don’t bother yourself, Bernard. I’ll get home just fine on my own. You stay with your friends and have a good time. We’ll see each other in a bit.”</p><p>After closing the door behind John, Bernard returns to the dining room, and I make my way to the kitchen to get some ice cream for myself, Lenina and Helmholtz.</p><p>Within a half-hour, we have finished our ice cream, and Bernard and Lenina make their way to the front door, wishing Helmholtz and I a good night.</p><p>Helmholtz stays a while longer, telling me about the rhymes he’d gotten in trouble for. Then, just before eight, he stands up from one of my chairs and bids me adieu, closing the front door softly behind him.</p><p>I take a few moments to clear the table, taking the dishes to the kitchen and disposing of them and the remaining food. I feel a bit down after the departure of my friends and the Savage, so I make myself a <em> soma </em> -lemonade drink - the same I made for Lenina when she first arrived - and sip it as I prepare for bed. Somehow, eating and drinking <em> soma </em> is far better than taking the little pills.</p><p>“A gramme is better than a damn,” I whisper to myself as I finish the drink. </p><p>
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